


A Not So Merry Christmas

by sometimesiwritespn



Series: One Shots [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caring Dean Winchester, Comfort/Angst, Cutting, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Description, Guilty Dean Winchester, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jo Sam and Cas are minor characters, Jo and Sam have a baby, Loving Dean Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Insert, Trigger Warnings, Triggers, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 03:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesiwritespn/pseuds/sometimesiwritespn
Summary: Dean, the reader, Sam, Jo, their baby, and Castiel all celebrate Christmas together. The holidays are always a hard time on the reader, and this year is no exception - in fact, this year is worse.[Graphic depictions of self harm]





	A Not So Merry Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Major trigger warnings for self harm, cutting, self esteem/confidence issues, self hatred, etc. Dean's a cutie, though, so there's that.
> 
> I've been having a super hard time lately, and up until the actual self harm part, this is all based off of how my Christmas went. I don't want to romanticize self harm, this is just something that's helping me get through it without actually hurting myself. 
> 
> I wrote this in a couple of hours and just posted it, so there's no editing or reviewing, which means there's probably mistakes and stuff. I'm sorry. Anyway, hope you guys like it. Feel free to drop a kudo or a comment. Love you guys!

(Y/N) had been struggling with her depression lately, and the boys had been noticing it. It started when she just started getting snappy and irritated with them frequently. She was normally such a level headed person, and then she started snapping at the littlest of things. Dean had been watching her carefully, making sure she was taking her medication like she was supposed to. And each night, after she’d gone to bed, he’d count her pills to make sure it was less than it had been the day before. And it always was – so obviously her medication wasn’t working as well as it once was.

It could have been the fact that they were right around the holidays, though. Dean knew this time of year always got hard for her. He knew that every time Christmas came around, (Y/N) thought about her Christmas a few years ago, where she was alone, sitting on her kitchen floor, slicing into her arms and crying over a bottle of whiskey. She was always so ashamed of her scars, no matter how much Dean tried to convince her they were a part of her, and that all of her was beautiful, she just always refused to believe it. 

After the irritation, then came the small mental breakdowns. The ones where she would get so stressed out over little things that she would just shut down, start crying, and not be able to stop. Whenever she would stop, another thought would pop into her head that would make her upset, and it would start all over again. Dean had caught her in one of them, quickly scooping her up and hugging her to his chest. He never forced her to talk – after all, he understood just as well as anyone what it was like to be tormented by your own thoughts and your own past. But Dean knew there had been a couple more breakdowns that he wasn’t a part of. He’d caught her coming out of the bathroom every so often, nose red, face wet from where she’d splashed cool water around her eyes to make it look like she hadn’t been crying. 

(Y/N)’s excuse after every bout of irritation and crying was that she was exhausted, and it was just really messing with her and putting her in a weird mind state. She was praying that was all it was, after all, so why wouldn’t she tell that to the guys? (Y/N) didn’t want them worrying anymore than they had to. There was no way her depression was coming back such full force – not when she’d been doing so well and had been religiously taking her medication for months now. 

(Y/N)’s one saving grace was that Sam and Jo had just recently had a baby. Isaac Dean Winchester, they had named him – and he was the cutest thing in the world. (Y/N) loved babies more than anything else, so she was frequently helping Sam and Jo with Isaac. When Sam was on hunts with Dean, (Y/N) was usually with Jo, helping so she could have some time for herself to take a shower, eat, and do whatever else she wanted to do. 

Any time (Y/N) had a bad day, she would message Sam and ask if it would be okay for her to come see them. Although they all still lived in the bunker together, they’d kind of sectioned it off into two separate spaces. The brothers had wanted it that way, since they were now both with significant others, and there was a baby. The bunker was big enough, after all, so it really did feel like they were just neighbors instead of living in the same house – neighbors that just happened to have dinner together quite frequently since there was only one kitchen. 

Because of this, (Y/N) had been seeing the baby more frequently than Dean and Castiel. Sometimes even Sam, depending on how often and how long Sam was gone for hunts. She didn’t really think anything of it, because Sam had once mentioned how he thought Jo liked having her around, and she was just trying to help out. 

Dean had managed to cook up a good Christmas dinner (even though they were eating it at noon) with some help from Jo, since he wasn’t the best in the kitchen. They had this blueberry French toast thing that no one knew the name of, ham, potatoes, apple bread, banana bread, you name it, they probably had it. Castiel had decided to come celebrate with them too, and even he ate a little bit, though it still all just tasted like molecules to him. 

Isaac slept through the whole dinner, surprisingly, so no one really had to be paying much attention to him. During clean up, though, and before presents, he’d woken up. Jo went to him to feed him, but was quickly overtaken by Dean, who wanted to see his nephew. Throughout all of clean up and most of presents, Isaac was passed around between Jo, Dean, and Cas. 

Sam could see the little bit of longing on (Y/N)’s face, but she was making sure not to ask about holding him. She knew she’d been seeing Isaac more than the rest of them, so she was just patiently waiting her turn. “I think (Y/N) wants to hold him for a little bit.” He commented, kicking a piece of stray wrapping paper that had landed by his foot.

Jo just laughed. “She’s seen him plenty lately.” She commented, passing Isaac off to Castiel. All of them were surprised at how well Cas had taken to him, but he cared about him just as much as he cared about the rest of the Winchester family. 

It was a harmless comment, and (Y/N) knew it, but she couldn’t help but feel like she’d gotten kicked in the stomach. It had been a long time since she’d had terrible thoughts rush through her mind, but they immediately started to. _‘They don’t want you around anymore.’_ Was the first one that came up, then immediately, _‘You’ve overstayed your welcome.’_ Sam seemed to notice the shift on (Y/N)’s face, but she just played it off with a quiet laugh, nodding her head. 

There had been a couple times during the Christmas celebration that (Y/N) had made a couple jokes like ‘I’m not a hunter, so not my problem.’ She only made the joke twice, since she didn’t want them getting annoyed with it. But as they were all sitting at the table, about to disperse back to their corners of the bunker, someone mentioned something to her about a hunt – and it was the perfect time to make the joke, so she did, just once more. “Jesus, (Y/N)!” Dean said, causing (Y/N) to step back a little bit in surprise. “Even I am tired of that joke, (Y/N).” Castiel then said, and (Y/N)’s stomach clenched tightly. 

_‘They’re tired of you.’ ‘You just annoy them.’ ‘No one wants you around anymore.’_ (Y/N) took a deep breath through her nose and just smiled, quickly going to each of them and giving them a hug – except for Dean, who she kissed lightly – and told everyone she loved them. “I’m just going to be in my room.” She mumbled quietly.

While walking to her room, (Y/N) found her eyes filling with tears. She’d been wrong this whole time. It wasn’t that she was tired, it wasn’t that she was in a bad mood, it was that her depression was kicking her ass again. And now everyone was tired of her. Just the thought had the tears brimming over, her breath catching in her throat as she quickly pushes her door open and shuts it quietly behind her, pressing her back against the door and sliding down it.

Once she was seated on the floor, (Y/N) brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and placing her forehead on her knees. She was trying to stop the tears, but at the same time, she knew Dean was going to be in the kitchen for a while longer talking, so she had some time to pull herself together. _‘Don’t act so surprised. You knew this was going to happen sooner or later.’ ‘You just hold them back, that’s why Dean won’t let you go on hunts with them. That’s why you’re not a hunter.’ ‘You’re not a hunter, why would they even want you around? They were going to get sick of you no matter what.’_

It took quite a while for her to be able to pull herself together, taking deep breaths and rubbing her eyes roughly, trying to get the tears to stop. In fact, she had just managed to get herself looking presentable again when there was a knock on the door. (Y/N) opened it to find Dean, giving him a little smile. Dean opened his mouth as if to say something, but then instead took a look at (Y/N) and said, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” (Y/N) answers quietly, turning to walk over to the bed so she can sit on it. When she turns back, Dean is still standing there with his eyebrows raised, obviously not believing her. “What?” 

“You’re not acting like nothing’s wrong.” Just the tone of (Y/N)’s voice, that little smile on her face that was so obviously fake, and all of her body language was telling Dean something was wrong. 

(Y/N) shrugs. “Christmas sucked, what do you want from me?” 

“Ah.” Dean says quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t understand what had happened between the kitchen and (Y/N)’s room to get her so upset, but he also didn’t want to push her if she didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m not a big fan of the holidays.” 

(Y/N) watches as Dean comes to sit down next to her on the bed, nodding, although she casts her gaze downward. “Yeah, I’m not either.” 

There was mostly silence for the rest of the night. (Y/N) felt like it was a tense silence, but she didn’t know if Dean did – since obviously she couldn’t ask. They sat in the living room together, (Y/N) on the couch and Dean in the armchair, both playing games on their phones, (Y/N) wondering if she should say something or not. 

Dean was actually the one to speak up first. “Maybe tomorrow, since Sam and I are going on a quick hunt, you should go hang out with Jo. You know, give her a few minutes to herself from the baby and all that.”

“I don’t think they’d want that.” (Y/N) mutters quietly, only looking up when Dean doesn’t respond. He’s looking at her with question marks in his eyes, obviously not understanding why she’s saying that. “They just spent time with me today. And Jo made it very clear that I’d seen him enough lately.” 

“I don’t necessarily think that’s what she meant.” Dean says slowly, standing up so he can come sit next to (Y/N) on the couch. “Is that what you’re upset about? Is that why you think Christmas sucked, because you didn’t get to spend much time with the baby?” 

“The whole thing sucked, Dean.” (Y/N) mutters. Dean’s eyes flash with a little bit of hurt, but then it just turns to worry. He’d celebrated Christmas with her last year, and even though Christmas was always hard on her, she’d never been this upset afterward. Something must really be going on. 

(Y/N) knew Dean didn’t mean to upset or hurt her by asking the question. He knew Isaac was one of the few things lately that had been making (Y/N) happy, which was probably why he’d mentioned it. So, it wasn’t his fault, but the thoughts were just attacking her again. _‘You shouldn’t go over there anymore.’ ‘Stop offering your ‘help’, you’re not helping anyone except yourself.’ ‘They feel bad refusing you because they pity you, they don’t really want you over there with them.’_

Lost in her thoughts, (Y/N) hadn’t even realized when Dean got up from the couch and disappeared from the living room. She tears up, quickly wiping them before any more can accumulate and actually fall from her eyes. How was she supposed to talk to Dean about any of this stuff when everyone was sick of her? When most likely, she was going to be kicked out of the bunker and sent on her way. When most likely, she was going to lose everyone she cared about, all because she was too fucking annoying.

“It’s never good.” (Y/N) whispers to herself, wishing she was talking to Dean about it. But she couldn’t. “My best… it’s never good. It’s either too much, or it’s not good enough. My best is never anyone else’s best.” 

After playing on her phone a while longer, (Y/N) looked at the time and saw it was 7:30. Although it was still early, it was at least somewhat acceptable for her to go to bed now that it was after 7:00, right? (Y/N) passes by Dean, who’s in the kitchen, eating a Christmas cookie from earlier. She goes into the kitchen and lightly kisses him on the cheek. “I’m going to bed.” She says quietly.

Dean’s green eyes are immediately worried once again. It wasn’t even 8:00 and she was already going to bed? She hadn’t been going to bed until midnight lately, and midnight was the very earliest. “Okay.” He says softly, reaching out to grab her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll be in soon, okay? I love you.” 

He makes sure to put an emphasis on the last three words. (Y/N) had a hard time believing Dean loved her on her good days, let alone her bad. Dean Winchester was normally never one to say those three words to anybody. He still hardly said them – pretty much the only times he actually said it was when he knew (Y/N) was having a hard time. “I love you, too.” (Y/N) whispers, offering him a little smile before she pulls away and goes up to her room. 

(Y/N) makes sure she takes her medication – still hoping that it’ll magically make her depression control itself like it had been before – and climbs into bed. Her plan is to just go to sleep, but instead she starts spending some time on her phone. But while she does that, her mind is once again going into overdrive, telling her all the things she really doesn’t want to hear. _‘No one wants you around anymore.’ ‘Dean is only saying that because he pities you.’ ‘He’s going to break up with you soon – who would want to be with someone like you?’ ‘He’s strong, you’re weak. Soon he’s going to see that and realize he can’t be strong for the both of you.’_

At that last realization, (Y/N)’s entire body tenses. She clears her throat, her exhale coming out more shakily than she’d realized it was going to be. (Y/N) doesn’t even realize what her hand is doing before she’s scratching her leg harshly, causing her to gasp. Then she realizes what that feeling in the pit of her stomach has been this whole time.

Self harm. She was literally itching out of her skin to hurt herself. She needed it like she needed to breathe – and that scared her. It had been years since she’d wanted to self harm. Sure, she’d had some thoughts of it every now and again, but that just came with depression. It was never an actual want – no, it was never an actual need. 

(Y/N) continues to lay in bed, her mind battling against itself. The rational part of her brain thought she should go get Dean. That she should tell him what’s going through her mind – and that he’ll stay up with her and hold her hand and make sure she doesn’t do anything. The other part of her brain is telling her that there’s no way she can go to Dean with this. Dean’s already been strong for the both of them, he doesn’t need this extra added burden; especially on Christmas. Christmas was supposed to be happy, now that they actually had a family, a home, and were able to celebrate. (Y/N) wasn’t supposed to be sad on Christmas. No, she most certainly could not go get Dean.

So, instead, (Y/N) lays in bed for a while longer, instead trying to tell her brain that she doesn’t need to do it. That she’s fine, she can just go to sleep and in the morning everything will be fine. There’s no need for her to hurt herself. She’ll just regret it in the morning.

Eventually, though, the sad part of her brain wins, and (Y/N) finds herself ripping the covers off herself, going into the little bathroom that’s attached to the master bedroom where she and Dean slept. (Y/N) knows right where Dean keeps his extra blades. He has a blade in every room in case something were to ever attack him. The one in the bathroom is on a shelf in the medicine cabinet, hidden behind a bunch of pill bottles no one ever uses – so no one ever disturbs them.

Carefully, making sure she doesn’t tip any of the pill bottles over, (Y/N) manages to get the knife out from behind them and place them back in their correct spots. She swallows around the growing lump in her throat as she flicks the knife open, gently running her finger along the edge of the blade. Dean never messed around with knives – they were always as sharp as shit, and this was no exception. 

(Y/N) sits down on the floor again, this time leaning her back against the bath tub, shutting the bathroom door gently with her foot – not latching it, but her foot is still leaning against it to ensure it doesn’t open any further. Her eyes skim along her arms, but she knows she can’t do it there. Dean has already mapped out all the marks there, and if he were to see another one, even if it was after it was all healed, he would know it was out of place. It also wouldn’t be very easy to hide, considering Sam liked to keep the heat at a sweltering level to keep the baby warm – so long sleeves would look out of place unless they were outside. But her thighs… her thighs could probably work.

(Y/N) had always been self conscious of her body, so most of the time when she and Dean got sexual, she insisted on the lights either being dimmed or off. Dean was still hoping that one day he could convince her she was beautiful enough for him, but until then, he wasn’t going to try to make her uncomfortable. She also almost always wore pants, whether it was sweatpants, pajama pants, or jeans, so it’s not like it would be that hard to hide.

Decision made, (Y/N) unbuttons her jeans and pulls them down and off. She doesn’t want to accidentally get any blood on them, because that would look suspicious. Folding them and placing them off to the side, (Y/N)’s eyes then scan along her thighs. For a moment, though, she wondered just what the hell she was doing. She shouldn’t be doing this. This wasn’t right.

 _‘No one wants you around anymore.’ ‘Your best is never good enough, and soon they’re going to hate you for it.’ ‘You only annoy everyone, they don’t love you.’ ‘They pity you, that’s the only reason they tolerate you.’_

Hand shaking, (Y/N) lowers the blade to her thigh, slicing in so gently it doesn’t even make a mark. She bites her bottom lip, taking a deep breath and this time going in deeper. A few drops of blood appear – and at the first sight of them, it’s like a dam was unleashed. It was like she could finally breathe after being trapped underwater for decades. It was a feeling she was already addicted to – and all thoughts of it being wrong flew out the window. Her next mark, right next to the first, was deeper – now a full line of red, instead of a few drops. 

Once she had started, she just kept going. Her chest heaving with her ragged breaths, tears spilling down her cheeks that she’s not even aware of. The only thing she’s aware of is the blood trailing down either side of her leg, getting on the floor and all over her hand and the blade. 

There’s a little nudge against her foot that she doesn’t notice – up until there’s a loud gasp and her foot is shoved over to the side. (Y/N)’s eyes go wide, and she drops the blade, desperately trying to cover up her thigh, but it’s obviously too late and the blood is everywhere. There was no hiding it. 

Dean is silent as he looks down at her, his own eyes filled with tears. He bites his lip so hard he’s pretty sure he can taste blood, but he’s ignoring it for now. He has to swallow around the lump in his throat, knowing it’s his time to be strong now – he can’t freak her out. He can’t make her think he’s made at her for this. This is the time to be supportive, not harsh. “Sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper as he drops to his knees in front of her. “Oh, (Y/N), what did you do?” 

(Y/N) brings her hand up to wipe her eyes, the blood mixing with the tears that had spilled down her cheeks, crying so hard she feels like she can’t breathe. There are words escaping her mouth faster than she can even think, words that she thinks makes sentences, but she’s not sure. Words that Dean can hardly understand, but he’s able to piece together the apologies. 

“It’s okay, baby, just give me the knife.” Dean’s emerald eyes are still shining with tears. He’d known something was wrong. If only he’d just fucking sat down with her and talked to her about it instead of ignoring it. If only he hadn’t just ignored all the signs of her depression being back full force, maybe she wouldn’t be covered in her own blood right now. 

Dean reaches his hand out to take the knife out of (Y/N)’s hand, and he can’t help his tears spilling over when (Y/N) rips her hand away from him, clutching onto the knife like it’s her lifeline. Clutching onto it how she used to clutch onto Dean whenever she was in a bad headspace. “No, Dean, I can’t! I need it!” She pleads desperately, feeling her heart shatter when she sees the hurt in Dean’s eyes. “I can’t, Dean, I have to do it, I need it, I can’t ignore the voices anymore, I can’t stop them, Dean!” 

Swallowing hard, Dean manages to reach over and pluck the knife out of (Y/N)’s hand when she starts crying even harder, because of talking about the voices. Ignoring all the blood on the floor and all over her, Dean sits down next to her and pulls (Y/N) into his lap. “Shhh.” He soothes, his hand coming up to the side of her head, so he can tuck her head into the crook of his neck. Dean starts to rock her back and forth, eyes falling shut while he tries to control his own trembling. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, baby. I’m right here, (Y/N). I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re going to be okay. I promise.” 

Strangled cries turn into softer ones, which then turn into heavy sniffles, which finally turn into little whimpers. Dean keeps rubbing (Y/N)’s back and rocking her back and forth, his soothing murmurs never stopping. He takes a deep breath once he thinks (Y/N) has finally calmed down enough and pulls away, cupping both of her cheeks in his hands so she’ll look at him. Dean then leans forward to kiss her forehead, allowing his lips to linger there. “I love you, so much.” Dean whispers. “Please, let me clean you up and then we can talk about this?” 

(Y/N) was too exhausted to argue with him. Although hurting herself always was such a release, it made her exhausted afterward. Add that onto the crying because she’d been caught, and she was half asleep as it was. (Y/N) just nods, even though she really doesn’t want him to be stuck cleaning her up. “M’sorry.” She whispers again.

“You don’t need to apologize to me.” Dean says quietly, slowly moving her off his lap, so he can get the supplies he needs to disinfect and bandage the wounds. “The only person you need to apologize to is yourself. Sorry…” he murmurs the last word when (Y/N) hisses because of the disinfectant’s sting against her new marks. 

Dean cleans her up with loving and gentle hands, still whispering things to her every so often, mostly just variations of ‘I love you.’ Once again, if there was ever a time for him to actually say the words out loud, this was it. Dean could tell she was terrified he wasn’t going to want her anymore. 

Once the cuts are all cleaned, Dean scoops her up and brings her back into their room, placing a towel down over the mess and telling himself he’ll get to that later. He helps (Y/N) change into a pair of soft pajama pants and a t shirt, making sure he presses a couple little kisses to her thigh before he gets the pajama pants all the way pulled up. “What voices, baby?” He finally asks. 

(Y/N) looks up at him sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She wanted to sleep, but she also knew she wouldn’t be finding sleep so easily – not unless Dean was right there snuggling her. “What?” She questions.

“Earlier, in the bathroom, when I was trying to get you to let go of the knife. You said you needed to do it, because you couldn’t ignore the voices anymore. That the voices wouldn’t stop. What voices are you talking about?” 

(Y/N) sniffles, looking down, until Dean tilts her chin back up, so she’ll meet his emerald gaze. “The voices that tell me I’m annoying and everyone’s sick of me. Like when I made that joke and you got upset and Cas told me it wasn’t funny anymore. Like when Jo mentioned that I’d seen the baby plenty enough, and basically told me that I’d overstayed my welcome when I was just trying to help. The voices that tell me my best is never good, because it’s either too much or it’s never enough. The voices that tell me you all just pity me and soon enough I’m going to lose everything I love because you’re all going to get sick of me. The voices that tell me you’ve been strong for both of us for so long that eventually you’ll realize I’m weak and that you don’t want to be with me… the voices that ask me why you would even want to be with me when I’m not even a hunter.” 

Dean’s heart was clenching the entire time (Y/N) was talking, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks, but he never interrupts her. He already felt so bad because he saw she’d been using his knife. He had caused this. Not directly, maybe, but he’d allowed her to have the tool that had caused all this pain on her. “I didn’t realize not being a hunter had been so hard on you.” Dean whispers. He hadn’t realized the jokes were just her masking how hard of a time she’d been having. “I’m so sorry I snapped at you, baby. I know Sam and Jo like having you around, too. They are grateful for what you do for them, even if they’re not always the best at expressing it.” 

He closes his eyes, reaching a hand up to wipe his cheeks roughly – but (Y/N) has already gotten there, her thumbs stroking over his cheeks gently. (Y/N) feels terrible that she’s hurt him like this. “I never wanted to hurt you.” (Y/N) whispers. “You’re the one good thing in my life, Dean. I never wanted to do anything to hurt you. That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you. That’s why I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“Baby girl, you’re never burdening me with your problems.” Dean says softly. “Hell, you hardly talk to me about your depression as it is. But we’re a team, right? That’s what being in a relationship means. Which means sometimes it’s 50/50, sometimes it’s 80/20, hell, sometimes it’s even 90/10. You step up and do whatever the other person needs.” He pauses, clearing his throat as he can feel himself getting emotional again. “You’ve stepped up to the plate more times than I can count. Running the house and keeping everything going smoothly when Sam and I are out on hunts. Doing emergency research even though you don’t really know what you’re looking for. Taking care of me when I get injured. Just… let me step up to the plate this time, okay? Let me step up to the plate when you get to be like this.”

(Y/N) is silent, her eyes cast downward. Dean’s stayed silent, hoping for a reaction, but he doesn’t get one except her sniffling. “I want to take care of you.” He whispers, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. Dean pulls (Y/N) down into bed with him, covering them both up with the covers and placing his arms tightly around her. He’s afraid that if he lets go, she’s going to float away. That if he lets her out of his sight, he’ll realize he didn’t actually get there in time, and this is all just a dream. “Please let me take care of you. You just have to tell me when things are going wrong in your head. You don’t even have to tell me what it is. Just tell me it’s a bad day, and I’ll help you through it. Okay?” 

With another sniffle, (Y/N) nods her head, her own arms snaking around Dean’s waist to pull him closer to her. They’re already smushed together, but she wants to be even closer. “Dean?” She finally says quietly, waiting until he hums out his answer to show he’s listening. “It’s a bad day.” 

Dean gives her a little smile, tilting his head down so he can kiss her lips lovingly. “I know, sweetheart.” He whispers. “I love you, so much. I’m right here for whatever you need. I’ll stay up all damn night to make sure nothing happens to you if that’s what it takes. I just need you to be okay.” 

They’re both silent. So silent that eventually, Dean thinks (Y/N) has fallen asleep, when in reality, she’s still just laying there thinking about everything. “I’m sorry I ruined Christmas.” She whispers. 

Dean couldn’t help the little chuckle of surprise that escapes him when she finally speaks up, only to say that. “Told ya, I’m not a big fan of the holidays anyway.” He whispers, pressing his lips to her head affectionately. “And y’know, even though this was a not-so-merry Christmas, it’s still a hell of a lot better than any I had when I was a kid. And you wanna know why?” Now it’s Dean’s turn to wait for the hum of confirmation. “Because I have you.” 

A little smile forms on (Y/N)’s lips, pressing her lips to the side of his neck where her nose is currently buried. “I love you, Dean.” 

“I love you, too, (Y/N). Always have, and always will.”


End file.
